


Binary Fission

by narsus



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, Incest, M/M, Trans Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-10
Updated: 2011-08-10
Packaged: 2017-10-22 11:49:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/237709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/narsus/pseuds/narsus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mycroft and Anthea are two very distinct individuals: the rest is simply a matter of biological casing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Binary Fission

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Sherlock belongs to the BBC, Mark Gatiss & Steven Moffat, and obviously in the genesis of it all, to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle.

When they get into the car, John is surprised to note that for once Anthea isn't clutching her Blackberry close and avoiding all eye contact. In fact, she's looking right at them and, curiously, wearing a three piece suit, reminiscent of something Mycroft might wear were he female. Mycroft on the other hand is wearing a black, two piece suit and tapping away at a Blackberry. John looks from one to the other in confusion. Sherlock let's out an irritated huff.

“What now, Mycroft?”  
“Really, Sherlock, must you always be so hostile?”

John blinks in surprise. It's Anthea who responds, not Mycroft, who still hasn't raised his eyes from his Blackberry.

Sherlock scowls.  
“Always so melodramatic.” Anthea continues with cool superiority, sounding very much like Mycroft.  
“What is it that you want? I don't have all day.”  
“Of course. To business then.”

Mycroft hands a manilla folder to Sherlock, still without meeting his eyes. Sherlock snatches it from his hands.

“All the information has been verified.” Mycroft comments mildly.  
“Of course it has. My brother wouldn't want it otherwise.” Sherlock snaps, quickly flicking through the contents of the folder, before discarding it.

The car comes to a stop and Sherlock bolts. John barely has time to tumble out of the car after him before him before it moves off again.

“Sherlock? What was-”  
“My brother being boring again.”  
“Mycroft?”  
“Yes, Mycroft. What other siblings do I have?” Sherlock turns his glare on John.  
“I don't know, but the last I checked it was a brother, not a sister instead.”  
“What _are_ you talking about?” Sherlock appears genuinely confused.  
“You- Forget it.”

Sherlock frowns briefly and then continues walking, John's confusion apparently dismissed with ease.

The case turns out to be something that involves their rushing about between governmental buildings, via windows and fire exits and abandoned staircases. Something has gone missing from a locked room, as far as John can gather and while there is a suspect, there has been no evidence of the missing item in said suspect's possession. As it turns out, the item is a copy of a diplomatic letter or some sort that's been discreetly hidden in another office by a rather vindictive junior officer, in an attempt to endanger his colleague’s employment. The matter is resolved quickly enough with Sherlock dismissively calling the case commonplace in the extreme.

A few days later they're visited by Anthea again, still wearing a grey suit that looks, now that John has the chance to inspect it more closely, like a deliberate copy of the suits Mycroft usually wears. She taps the tip of her umbrella on the floor in much the same manner as Mycroft.

“Well?” Sherlock paces, glaring at her intermittently.  
“Well.” She raises an eyebrow.  
“The case is closed. What more do you want?”  
“Want? Can't I just pay a visit to my brother for the simple pleasure of his company?”  
“Don't.”

Anthea smirks and examines the tip of her umbrella with feigned interest.

“Ah... I don't mean to be...” John starts and then stops, as they both turn towards him.  
“Mycroft was just leaving.”  
“Surely you'll join me tonight? Tannhäuser _is_ one of your favourite operas.”  
“Fine.”  
“ _Good_. I do so hate to have to change my plans.”  
“Of course you do.”

Anthea stands to make her exit and Sherlock shoves his hands into his pockets, turning his back to her. He doesn't look up from an intense inspection of the ground until she's gone.

“What was-”  
“Do you have any condoms? I'll be late if I have to go buy some as well.”  
“What?”  
“ _Prophylactics_. I presume you do keep some to hand.”  
“I... Yes, but...”  
“Good. You can leave them on the table, I'm going to take a bath.”

John's left staring after Sherlock's retreating back. He does leave a handful of condoms on the coffee table though, more out of a confused sense of obligation to help a friend than really, entirely, understanding why.

The next morning, John's in the process of making breakfast when Sherlock returns, looking quite pleased with himself.

“I'm not even going to ask.” John states, back to Sherlock as he turns the sausages over in the pan.  
“I wouldn't give details anyway. A gentleman never does.”  
“Right. Did you want anything?”  
“I've already breakfasted with Mycroft.”  
“Which one?” John can't help that the question slips out.  
“Which...? Oh, you mean which host. The secondary one. I wouldn't need condoms with the primary.”  
“Right. Right- wait-” John shakes his head. “I'm...”  
“Not going to even ask?” Sherlock teases.  
“That's the one.”

Sherlock disappears into his bedroom and John tells himself that all he's going to do is focus on making his breakfast. He most certainly isn't going to be thinking about what Sherlock's just revealed, nor is he going to consider the implication of who he'd potentially flirted with in the back of a sinister black car quite some time ago.

John's just finished his breakfast when Sherlock returns, wearing his dressing-gown and looking freshly showered.

“That wasn't Mycroft.” He says, apropos nothing.  
“Who?”  
“In the car. That wasn't Mycroft that you-”  
“Oh! Good. I mean- I didn't mean to- not with your brother anyway...”  
“Of course. It's easy enough to keep track of. My brother tends to make it clear.”  
“Right. So... if she's wearing a suit she's... Mycroft then?”  
“Precisely. He prefers older styled formal clothing.”  
“Okay. Good- so I can tell. That's good.”

Sherlock frowns and John can tell that he's babbling.

“Right, good. That's fine.”

A raised eyebrow suggests that Sherlock doesn't exactly believe John's assertions of all now being well.

“It's just... well, when... Mycroft is... female, then who's...?”  
“Anthea of course.”  
“Anthea.”  
“You mean, in a male body and all?”  
“Obviously. You could always try asking her out. I have no interest in women.”

John opens his mouth to reply to that but finds that whatever he thought he was going to say just isn't worth being said. In fact, his mind having caught up with Sherlock's statement, he finds that he's rather regretting Anthea's apparent disinterest a good deal now.

“I mean... it'd still be her, right?”  
“The biological casing is only a minor detail.”  
“Right.”  
Sherlock smirks. “She likes action films, firearms and gin, straight up.”


End file.
